


gonna have to kill me twice

by bishopsknifepatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, actually maybe a little but not a lot, all the hurt, i hope you know, i put the warnings on it for a reason, this is really fucking sad, zero comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishopsknifepatrick/pseuds/bishopsknifepatrick
Summary: “How much time do we all have left?” Joe inquired, nervously.“That's the thing, I don't know.”





	gonna have to kill me twice

**Author's Note:**

> this a lot to take in. if you can't read it, don't. I have several other fluffier fics that are better, so you could read those.

His eyes fluttered open, and he rose out of bed, heart rate high. The crash from the living room sounded loud, at least from coming out of his deep sleep. He hung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Trying his best to take soft, gentle steps, he tiptoed to the door and opened it ever so slightly.

At first, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but then he looked over to the corner of the room. Someone was on the floor...sweeping. Presumably whatever they had knocked over. 

Who the hell stays around to clean something up while they're in someone else’s house?

He stepped out of his room quietly, walking slowly to the person. They looked familiar, too familiar. 

“Oh my god, Andy, I'm so sorry. I must have kicked the lamp in my sleep and broke it. I was hoping it wouldn't wake you up, but...yeah.”

Was this a dream? 

“P-patrick…?”

“Yeah?”

Andy didn't know what to say. His brain was still trying to process what just happened. “...it-it’s okay.”

“Don't worry, I'll buy you a new one,” Patrick said as guilt washed across his face. “I'll go make breakfast for us.”

Patrick headed towards the kitchen, “Thank you for letting me crash here for the night,” he patted Andy on the shoulder as he walked by. Now that freaked him out the most. This couldn't be a dream. But Patrick was supposed to be dead. That whole night was replaying in his head over and over again. 

This would be pretty normal if this was three months ago, but that was three months ago, now his three best friends were dead. Gone. Not living. But here was Patrick. Functioning like normal. Alive. Which Andy was sure he was not. 

He had seen their bodies in the morgue, as he was the first one to identify them. This could not be happening. 

knock knock

‘What now?’ were the only words going through Andy’s brain. He unlocked the door and saw Pete? I mean, he would start freaking out again, but he’s still panicking from the events that took place earlier. 

“Hey, Patrick stopped by and said he’d be over here, so I was wondering if all of us could have a writing session,” Pete said, sparkling his innocent smile. Andy could feel his head beginning to implode. “Andy? You good?”

Snapping out of his train of thought, he stared at Pete, who was awaiting a response. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, stepping out of the way to let Pete enter through the doorway. 

“Joe said he’ll come over later by the way.” 

“If you don't mind me asking, but how did you get here?”

“I walked.” Pete muttered, “I'm not sure, but I didn't feel like driving, like, at all.” 

“I see,” Andy said, while nodding. They all went over to the kitchen table, each taking a seat in front of the breakfast Patrick had prepared. The other two were carrying on like normal. How things used to be before the transport truck veered into their lane just a month ago. How things should still be. 

Pete and Patrick were in bickering mode, where they took the simplest things and fought to death over. The day seemed to go by quickly, but at the same time, felt so long and agonizing. He wasn't sure how to feel. 

Soon Joe came over, guitar case in hand. He seemed like the others, oblivious to what had really happened. They all got ready to practice and it felt like a relief. 

Andy still didn't try to play his drums. He didn't want to. 

Before long, the moonlight shone in through the bay window in the dining room of Andy’s house. It was just the four of them and time felt infinite. He almost forgot about the unexplainable disaster happening to them. It was serenity. 

“I think we should get some sleep,” Pete said, setting down his bass gently. 

“Where are we all going to sleep?” It was nearly 3am and the three of them were in no shape to drive home, or walk, in Pete’s case. 

“You guys take the couches, Patrick and I can share my bed,” Andy said, to which everyone agreed. 

“What about pyjamas?” Pete asked.

“You can borrow a few of my extra sets.”

Once they were all in their PJs, they relaxed a bit, each going their separate ways for the night. Andy switched the bedroom light off, stepping over to the bed to lay on his side of it. Both were laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, before Patrick turned onto his side to face Andy, ready to ask questions. 

“Are you mad at me?” Patrick whispered.

“Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I don't know, things just seem to be different since we, uh, told each other how we fe-feel,” he said, worry filling his voice.

“I love you, Patrick.”

“I love you, too, Andy,” Patrick smiled. Andy leaned towards him to give him a light kiss on his forehead causing Patrick's cheeks to turn redder than a tomato. This was the first time in a while Andy had ever felt safe, or even happy for that matter. They just laid there turned towards one another basking in each other's comfort. 

///

The next day felt like a push back to reality. Patrick, Joe and Pete have no clue that they have been technically dead for a month. The only person who knew what was happening to Andy was him himself. As far as Google results go, the other three were dead. Andy was also thinking that it might be best to keep them out of the public eye. At least till he knew what the fuck was happening. 

It meant everything to him, having them back and all, but what is the catch? Was this going to be what dreams are made of or the thing of nightmares? Was this some trick of the mind? An extremely vivid hallucination? 

Should he even tell them? What if it screws everything up? Is he going to lose them again? Go through all the agony again? He wasn't even over it from when they first died. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Pete walked in. He appeared to be okay, but then all the sudden he lost his balance and had lean on the fridge to keep from hitting the ground. Then, it left as fast as it began. Andy rushed over to him. “What happened?”

“I just blacked out I think,” Pete said, Andy holding arm so he could stand up straight. 

“Are gonna be okay?” Andy asked, concerned. 

Pete tried taking a step on his own and everything seemed to be okay again, “Yeah, I think I'm good. Thanks Andy.” 

Pete continued walking, but not like normal Pete. Pete had a bit of bounce in his step. Now he didn't. 

Once Patrick and Joe woke up, they went back to practicing. Patrick was eating his breakfast as he was reviewing the sheets, and Andy was trying out his drums. This was technically the first time he’s played drums since before the accident. He had no motivation to, as his motivation had literally died. 

He was hesitant even picking up his drumsticks and even decided to lock the door to his practice room, to keep himself from having to see it everyday. Now he was sitting within those four walls. 

Joe dropped his pencil on the floor and when he bent back up, he said, “I was thinking of this melody last night.” He reached over to grab his guitar, revealing a cut on his arm, blood oozing out of it. 

“Joe, what happened to your arm?” Joe lifted both of his arms until he located the wound. 

“I'm not sure? Maybe I hit something,” but that didn't seem to add up. Andy didn't have many sharp, pointy objects in his house, besides cutting knives, but how do you accidentally cut yourself on a knife and not notice? You don't. 

“Let me go bandage you up,” Patrick said, taking Joe’s arm (that was not bleeding) and pulling him towards the washroom. 

Left alone, it was just Pete and Andy. “I should probably get a new phone,” Pete said looking up. 

“Why?” Andy asked, confused.

“”Because somehow I smashed it. Look at it,” said Pete, handing Andy the broken cell. The screen was practically entirely shattered and you could even see the interiors of the phone.

Even more mysterious. 

Things calmed down for the rest of the day, then night hit. They all were deep in slumber. 

Andy felt his mind start to drift. The radio in the car was turned down, and replaced with the four of them getting hyped over the show they just played. Pete was driving them down the highway. The darkness enveloped them. The headlights continued to get brighter. They were all smiling. Patrick was gripping Andy’s hand in joy. It was the calm before the storm. Before Andy’s entire world collapsed to pieces around him. The headlights of the oncoming vehicle seemed to be offset slightly, in their direction. As they got closer, they all realized that the transport truck was in their path, but it was too late. To Andy, it all went done in slow motion. He could feel his heart accelerating, just as he looked to the left to see Patrick for the last time, if only he knew that at the time. Then he couldn't remember anything after that. All he remembered was waking up in a hospital room, bandages wrapped tightly around his head and he could hear the constant beeping of his heart rate monitor. A nurse walked in soon after he woke up, and did the routinely check they did with all patients, asking ‘how are you?’, ‘are you okay?’ and ‘do you need anything?’. All Andy could ask was “What happened?” The nurse’s smile faded, and she said slowly, “We regret to inform you that the other three passengers in the vehicle with you have passed. I’m so sorry.” He didn't understand what she said next as his head started to spin and he could feel his limbs start to shake. 

That’s when he woke up. He sat up in a cold sweat quickly, and violent enough to wake up Patrick, who was fast asleep beside him. Patrick touched Andy’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Andy, what happened?”

He just sat there for a moment to catch his breath. “Nothing, I'm fine,” he said, turning to his boyfriend and just melting into his arms. 

His entire life was turning into a nightmare. 

///

Throughout the next few days, whatever was happening to them went dormant, but then one night, they all sat down on the couch watching a movie. They were halfway through it and Andy paused it, then announced he was going to go make more popcorn. Lifting his arm from Patrick’s back, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen, much to the other’s dismay, as they were lost in the movie. 

They all sat back waiting for Andy’s return. Patrick coughed a bit, then stopped. Five seconds later, the cough persisted, reaching the point where he felt like he couldn't breathe. He took his feet off the coffee table and placed them on the floor so he could bend forward to try and cough it out. He could feel his chest tightening and pain becoming more prominent. Andy rushed back into the room, heading straight for Patrick’s side, patting him on the back. The cough ran it’s course, but left Patrick full of pain. 

Andy sat there holding Patrick in his arms, trying to wish away the pain because he couldn't stand watching him suffer.

Patrick hadn't had an asthma attack in years, why now? What was even happening? Andy didn't understand what was happening. What if all the events were connected? No, that couldn't be.

They went back to the movie, all seeming to pull closer to one another. They had a cohesive bond. Not even ¾ of them being dead could stop that. 

Falling asleep next to each other, the movie ended. The end credits rolled down the screen and Joe came to. He gazed at the other three, and smiled. He got to his feet slowly, stretching as he did so, and shuffled his way to the bathroom. 

All the others heard was a shriek coming from the hallway. They looked around, noticing Joe was missing. Rushing towards the scream, they found him on the floor, holding his left leg in agony. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear. I took a step and I could feel was my leg collapsing beneath me,” Joe said, quickly. 

“Let's get him to the couch,” Andy directed them, as they all lifted Joe from the ground. Gently setting their friend down on the couch, they all were confused on what happened. 

“We should get you to a hospital,” Patrick said.

“No, it’s not that it of a deal. It's probably not broken and I don't feel like getting in one of those death traps we call cars,” Joe said, the last sentence making Andy clench his fists in fear.

“Not that big of a deal? You don't just break your leg from putting pressure on it, or get random deep cuts on your arm, blackout while walking, have a severe asthma attack by literally just sitting there, or even have your phone smashed out of nowhere,” Pete frustratedly said. 

That left them all in silence. What was anyone supposed to say? 

///

Patrick and Andy were sat at the kitchen table, both taking sips of their coffees as the other two slept on the couch. 

“Andy?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I was wondering if we could go on a, um, an actual da-date?” Patrick managed to get out. “I don't think we've been on a real date.”

“I'd love that,” Andy said, extending his hand to touch Patrick’s hand, much to his delight. 

Pete was now in motion, walking towards them, blood dripping from his nose.

“What did you do? Pay someone to punch you in the face?” Patrick joked.

“Yep, I flung a twenty at them and told them to let me have it,” Pete flashed a smile. He continued to walk towards the bathroom, but then he felt extremely lightheaded once more, grabbing the back of one of the table chairs for support. He kept still, looking as if he was about to pass out at any moment. 

“Pete, are you okay?” Patrick went quiet. After a good ten seconds, Pete staggered the rest of the way to the bathroom. 

“I’ll be fine,” he called.

The day went by. Joe spent majority of it on the couch because of his leg and had noticed three new cuts that nobody had any memory of what could have caused them. Pete spent it going through series of blackouts every time he stood up and nosebleeds from doing nothing. 

Patrick was concerned about them and debated on whether or not they should leave them, but they insisted that Andy and him still go out. 

Arriving at the restaurant at 7:00pm, they got a nice seat by the windows. The restaurant was in a four story building, so you could see to the street below. Patrick couldn't keep his eyes off it, but he didn't appear to be mesmerized by it, instead his eyes were wide and fear covered his face. Andy tried his best to place Patrick’s attention on something else. 

Other than that, the night seemed perfect. They walked up the softly lit sidewalk slowly, hand in hand. 

They stood at the front door, looking each other in the eyes. “Tonight was really gr-” Patrick started but was interrupted by severe pain and tightening on the right side of his head. His eyes were shut because the outdoor light above the door was too much. 

“Patrick, are you okay?” Andy panicked, opening the door, helping him inside. He guided him to their joint bedroom, helping lean back on the bed, while he said on the edge, left hand on Patrick’s leg. Andy let him lay there till his breathing slowed down a bit. 

Leaving Patrick in the quiet was probably best for the likely migraine. He stepped out, closing the door most of the way, but leaving it slightly ajar. 

Joe looked at him, “What's wrong with Patrick?”

“I think he has a migraine,” Andy responded. This felt like another piece to the puzzle of something Andy wasn't sure, but he needed answers. “Guys, I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Do you have any recollection of ever being killed in a head on car crash?” Andy asked, quickly to get it all out.

“No…,” Pete said, staring at Andy like he was completely insane.

“Well, about a month ago, you were. We were.” 

“Andy, are you okay? You're making zero sense,” Joe said, sitting up.

Andy pulled out his phone, quickly googling one of the many articles written about them. “Just look at this,” Andy put the screen directly in their faces. “This explains it all. The headaches, migraines, blackouts, nosebleeds, cuts. Everything. You guys aren't supposed to be alive.”

“Did you survive?” Pete asked, almost in a whisper.

Andy nodded, “I think something brought you three back to life and…”

“And what?”

“And is trying to kill you again?” Andy said, kinda not believing it entirely himself. 

Joe and Pete didn't know what to say, how to react or what to even do now. There was no reason not to believe Andy and they can both say that they've felt like their bodies have been getting weaker lately. 

“What about Patrick?” Pete asked, choking on his words.

“I think he might be dying, too.”

“How much time do we all have left?” Joe inquired, nervously.

“That's the thing, I don't know.”

Taking in all of this was a weight added to their shoulders. How are you supposed to react? You're dead, but you're also still alive? How does that happen? 

“I'm gonna go check on Patrick,” Andy said, walking to their bedroom. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. The sound of the door sticking grabber Patrick's attention. He looked a bit better, but you could still tell he didn't feel to good. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Patrick said, readjusting his pillow to be at eye level with Andy. “Um, what were you talking about with Joe and Pete?”

Andy wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't tell Patrick yet. It'd hurt him too much. He tried to think of a viable excuse.

“Oh, just that I wanted to go to the gym tomorrow, so you three will be left alone for a bit,” Andy said, looking at the floor. Patrick could tell he was lying, but he accepted it. 

“Okay,” he said while nodding his head. 

“You should get some rest, Patrick. It’s been a long day,” he said, moving over to Patrick to give him a kiss on his forehead goodnight. 

///

Andy woke before any of them, got dressed and grabbed his gym bag. He left a note on Patrick’s bedside table and then left for the gym. 

Three hours later, he drove up the driveway. When he walked in the door, he saw something he did not expect, at least not yet. 

Pete had collapsed on the floor, dead, while Joe was lying down, lifeless, on the couch. Patrick was sitting on the floor between them crying. “I don't know what happened,” he said through his sobs. “It happened so fast and then they were just...gone.” He ran over to Andy, wrapping his arms around him, Andy hugging back. He could feel the tears streaming down his face. 

“Patrick, we have to talk.”

They went into the kitchen, away from all that, and sat at the table. 

“Now, I need you to trust me.” Patrick nodded. “About a month ago, we were all in a deadly car accident.” Pete and Joe died almost instantly, while you…,” he didn't know whether to continue, but he did, “you died later at the hospital, while I lived.” Patrick was confused. “I don't know why or how or what, but that morning I woke up and you were on my couch, that was the first time, I had seen you alive since before the accident, you were...dead.” 

“I was dead,” Patrick practically whispered, staring into the void. 

Everything turned gloomy. With Patrick’s impending doom, nothing felt good anymore. Pete and Joe were gone. Most likely for good this time. Patrick’s spark was deceased and he was going to be with it sooner or later. 

Andy was attempting to manage his stress through workouts, but that only gave him more opportunity to think ain't being all alone again. 

Patrick could no longer leave the house anymore or least didn't want to, and he had trouble moving because of his declining health, including breathing problems. Andy did his best to help him, but Patrick whether just wallow away in himself knowing the pain he was about to inflict on him.

///

One morning, it was different though. When Andy opened his eyes, Patrick wasn't there. In fact, he wasn't in the house at all. Andy looked everywhere, but he was gone, nowhere to be found. 

Andy was on the verge of a panic attack, when the phone rang. He basically jumped on the telephone, grabbing it and shoving it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this where it happened?” Patrick’s voice said, clearly distraught. 

“Where what happened, Patrick?” 

He could hear Patrick have a coughing fit. “The accident,” he said, out of breath. 

“Why are you there?” 

“Because, I can't be with you when it does happen, I need to be here, where it should have ended.” 

“Don't do this, please, Patrick. Come home,” Andy begged. 

“I can't,” he said. “I can't get up.”

“I'm sorry, Andy. I'm so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I...love you, Andy.”

“I love you, too, Patrick.”

He could hear the phone drop to the ground and then cars zooming by most likely about 10 ft from it.

Andy could practically hear his own heart snap in millions of tiny pieces.


End file.
